What Comes After
by pillar-of-salt
Summary: "'What's gotten into you,' Nadine asks, and he doesn't exactly know, except to think fleetingly that she looked really great in that dress tonight." Mike, Nadine, and a state dinner - and what comes after. Smut.


_Fic request: Nadine and Mike on a desk._

 _A/N: This story kind of turned into a monster, but there_ is _still a desk involved. Somewhere. I'm kind of embarrassed that I wrote this, but what's written should be shared, right? Oy._

* * *

It's not often that he has to come to these things, but it isn't all bad. The Secretary's staff is here too, which means he can appreciate Nadine in floor length formalwear tonight. It's a silky red number that showcases bared shoulders and delicate collarbones, and it clings to her breasts and her hips in a sinful way. He can't wait to take it off her later.

They didn't arrive together - she's working, and technically so is he. And even if they weren't, they're still keeping their nascent relationship under wraps, at her request. So he keeps his distance as she works the floor, content simply to enjoy the view.

But he quickly notices that he's not the only one looking at her.

He observes as she's speaking with the former-Foreign Minister Dubois, and Dubois is currently staring at her like she's a five-course meal and _not_ like she's the Chief of Staff to the world's most powerful diplomat. Dubois's eyes drift down to her chest several times during their conversation, and even from here Mike can tell how much it agitates her. After a time, she is able to extricate herself graciously from the conversation - and when she turns to the next guest, Dubois's gaze settles on her ass. Empty crepe.

There's another French staffer standing by Dubois, a tall woman with sharply beautiful features and icy blonde hair, and her eyes are also unmistakably trailing Nadine around the room. But Mike can't discern whether her interest is curiosity, or admiration, or - and this could simply be his own fantasies coloring his view - lust. It could be any combination of the three, of course.

And then there's a group of young attaches from the German delegation standing in a huddle near him who were making lewd remarks about Elizabeth earlier, and now that Elizabeth has stepped out of the room, are gesturing in Nadine's direction with crude comments and wolfish grins. His German is imperfect, but he picks up the gist of what they're saying - something about having sex on American soil and something about older women and something about _what a pretty mouth_ and exactly what they would like her to do with it. Amongst other filth. He wants to beat them to a pulp for their disrespect.

She doesn't need him to defend her honor, of course. But the longer he stands there listening to their drivel, the angrier he gets and the more possessive he feels. He has to remind himself that if he punches the bastards now it will only make Nadine's job harder tonight - and tomorrow.

He wants to knock back a few drinks to calm himself down instead, but he resists that too because she really does look absolutely fuckable tonight, and he would like to be able to make the most of it later _without_ any ill-timed, alcohol-soaked mechanical issues. If she wants, of course. He thinks she will. She likes to see him in a tux, and what's more, these events never fail to frustrate her beyond measure. She hates the mingling, despite being very good at it.

He settles for standing stoically at one end of the room while he sticks to expensive champagne. He makes polite chitchat with a pretty American delegate who drifts his way, but she must be trying to chat him _up_ , because when she catches on to his disinterest she drifts away just as easily. Just as well. He's not here for any other woman.

He's already done all his work for the evening. He could go home, but he'd like a chance to chat up Nadine first, and maybe share a dance if she's feeling generous. Then they can head back to his townhouse.

She glides toward him eventually. She has a half-full flute of champagne in her own hands, and stands next to him so that they are looking out at everyone together.

"You've been staring," she murmurs.

"Can't help it," he says. "You look beautiful tonight."

She ducks her head; she might be blushing. He likes that he can make her blush. "Thank you."

And because he can't resist, he adds slyly, "Dubois thought so too." He turns to look at her and catches the severe rolling of her eyes.

"I want to punch that man in the face," she mutters. "Chauvinist pig."

"I'll make you forget about all of that tonight in about two seconds flat," he promises, and out of the corner of his eye he can see a smirk curling her lips, like she's ready to hold him to that promise.

He scans the crowd for the other one. "And that woman." He discreetly points her out to Nadine. "She was definitely interested, too."

"What?" He's surprised her. She follows his gaze and frowns as she tries to recall the woman's name, title, or role. "I think that's Beauvais's new communications liaison."

"Well Beauvais's new communications liaison has been eyeing you like you're on the menu tonight."

Nadine scoffs. "You're crazy." But as they're both looking over in that direction, the media liaison looks up and locks her eyes on Nadine and smiles, and it's certainly not innocent. Her eyes skim down unabashedly and she licks her lips.

Mike can barely hold in his laughter as he hears Nadine utter a soft "oh".

"Told you."

"Interesting," she says enigmatically, and he definitely needs a little more clarification.

"Do you mean interesting as in, _interesting,_ or interesting as in…"

She smirks at him, no doubt discerning exactly what thoughts are hurtling through his mind, and elbows him gently. "In your dreams, Barnow." She sips her champagne. "Are you heading home?"

"Soon. I'm done here. Are you coming with me?"

"We can't leave at the same time. But I'll meet you there."

"Dance with me first." He takes her glass and his and sets them on the tray of a passing waiter, and leads her out to the clearing by hand. She doesn't protest as much as she sometimes does - plenty of people have left already, anyway. And it's just for one song.

She's a terrific dancer, and he is at least capable enough to not embarrass himself with her in his arms.

He subtly pulls her in closer. "I can't wait to take this dress off of you," he murmurs into her ear. She shivers against him. "You really do look amazing."

"Is that what you've been thinking about all night?"

"Me, and half the people in this room," he says, but he won't mention the vulgar German boys. He pulls her against him harder, making her squeak. "I'm the one who gets to take you home, though."

"Lucky you," she says, amused, and he knows she's just being flip but he agrees wholeheartedly. Lucky him.

"Oh I've got plans for you."

She leans back a little so that she can look at his face. She's biting her lip and there's a flirtatious little glint in her eye and he knows that she's imagining all of the things they both want, and want now. "I can't wait," she purrs. The song ends, and she steps back gracefully. "Thank you for the dance," she says at normal volume.

"My pleasure, Ms. Tolliver," he says, and then, "I'm gonna take off."

She nods, and comes in close again. "I'm going to leave in another fifteen minutes or so. Don't get ahead of me," she adds quietly, "I want to strip you out of that tux myself." She slips away from him to wrap up the business of the evening, and admiringly, he watches her go.

It's a balmy evening and Mike has nothing to collect from coat check so he goes right outside and hands his ticket to the parking valet. Several others are also trying to leave, so it takes a few minutes for his car to be brought around, and then several more minutes to inch through the city traffic, even though he doesn't live very far away.

He lets himself into the house and leaves the door unlocked for Nadine. He pulls his bow tie loose and pours himself a finger of scotch as he waits.

Twenty minutes later, her headlights swing into his driveway before turning off. He hears the car door open and close, followed by the faint clack of her heels on the concrete.

She opens the front door for herself as he's striding toward her, and she's barely through the door before his hands are instantly at her waist and he turns her and pushes her up against the wall. He begins to kiss all the bare skin across her shoulders and upper chest that he's been wanting to taste all evening.

"Hi there," she gets out, weaving her fingers through his short hair. She tilts her head back, exposing the long lines of her neck to him, and it begs for his lips and tongue and teeth. He obliges.

"Missed you," he murmurs against her skin. He snakes a hand around her back to catch hold of her zipper, and he tugs it all the way down to her ass in one smooth motion. Her dress, that beautiful dress, slithers to the floor in a soft whisper of fabric. She steps out of it and carelessly kicks it aside, despite the fact that it probably costs more than his monthly alimony.

"I can see that." She's whipped his bow tie off - it goes flying somewhere behind them - and is now trying to take off his tux jacket, but he's making it difficult because he refuses to remove his hands from her newly bared skin. "Mike!"

"Mhm," he responds distractedly. He's nuzzling the edges of her strapless bra, and his hands go around to squeeze handfuls of her ass.

And suddenly he's stumbling backward, surprised, as she pushes him away from her roughly. Her strength often impresses him. But she doesn't give him any time to worry about whether he's done something wrong, because she's stalking toward him in skimpy underwear and towering heels and _Jesus Christ,_ he thinks.

She grabs fistfuls of his jacket. "Let me undress you," she coaxes. She pushes it off his shoulders and onto the floor, then begins to work the buttons of his shirt. She gets to the bottom and tugs the tails out of his trousers, taking a detour to stroke the palm of her hand over his erection.

He groans. She grins as she shoves his shirt off and begins to undo his pants.

Mike pulls his undershirt over his head and steps out of his pants once Nadine pushes them down, and as she's tucking slim fingers under the waistband of his boxers, he captures her wrists and stops her. She looks up.

"Aren't we forgetting something?" he asks, and quirks an eyebrow.

She pauses, but then smiles, lighting up as bright as the sun. She wraps her arms around his neck. "We are," she murmurs. She pulls him forward and kisses him sweetly - their first kiss of the whole evening.

It makes him hungrier.

He slides his hands over the hard angles of her hips and pulls her in as close as he can, reveling in the feel of her skin on his. He grinds himself against her as they kiss, and she widens her stance instinctively, moaning. He licks into her open mouth, and their teeth clash as he kisses her harder, desperately.

Mike pushes her further into the house, walking them carefully across the living room as he kisses her senseless. He backs her gently into the framed entryway that leads to the rest of the house, and brushes fingertips over the barely-there scrap of lace under his hands. "I wanna hear you scream tonight," he murmurs. He pushes her panties over her hips and down her thighs, and they drop to the floor.

Nadine steps out of them and moves in close, now wearing nothing but her bra, and presses the entire front of her body against his. He can feel the heat of her through his boxers. She gently closes her teeth over his bottom lip, pulling on it playfully. "Make me."

He grins and spins her around, wrapping an arm around her waist so that her back is against his chest. He pulls her backward into the den, and she giggles as he practically lifts her off her feet in his eagerness. She kicks off her heels as they go, stumbling but trusting that he'll hold her upright.

He bumps into his desk, swears, and then veers them off course until he can drop into his office chair with Nadine on his lap.

She wriggles against him teasingly, making him groan, and then twists her body so that she can kiss him hard on the mouth. His hands run up and down her bare torso, grab her breasts, stroke her legs. He pulls down the cups of her bra and pinches her nipples, making her moan, before moving both hands down to her thighs and pulling them open. She slings her legs over the arms of the chair and leans back against him, sighing as he begins to move his hand gently between her legs.

She's so _wet_. He groans and presses his forehead against her shoulder. He works her over slowly, building her up at his leisure.

Nadine begins to give him nonsensical directions - "more, up, harder" - and he does his best to follow them, paying close attention to her body and the way it reacts to his touch.

He loves the way she responds to him. Nadine commits to sex with all of her faculties; her whole mind and her entire body and all of her senses. When he touches her _here_ , every inch of her responds. She doesn't just enjoy sex - she savors it. She is decadent in her pursuit of pleasure and in her giving of it, and god - she's so much fun to play with.

He adjusts the angle at which he moves his fingers inside her, curling and twisting them until her head tilts back and she moans, " _there_ ". And he fucks her just like that because he knows it's exactly what she's been chasing - he can see it in the way her body starts to make waves against him. Her arms go over their heads, desperately gripping the back of the chair as her back arches and her thighs quiver.

He sucks a bruise behind her ear as he slides his fingers inside of her again, hard, filling her up exactly the way she wants and she whines. He pumps his fingers and with his other hand, strokes circles, making her moan incoherently. He takes her higher and higher, and then switches it up on her just before she can shatter. He continues in this teasing pattern for a while, until her entire body begins to tremble, until she cries out in frustration.

"Come on Mike, you're killing me," she moans.

He only chuckles.

Nadine's own hand begins to trail down her torso; she never likes being denied what she wants, and she isn't shy about taking it for herself. But just before her fingers can reach their destination, Mike captures her wrist in his free hand and pulls it away from her body and she groans.

"No." He's feeling particularly assertive tonight. He kisses the back of her hand, then the side of her neck. "Beg me for it," he says flatly.

Her response is immediate. "Please."

"You can do better than that." He begins to touch her clit lightly again, then stops.

"Please, Mike. Please, please, I need to come. Please let me come." The words tumble out of her desperately.

 _That's more like it,_ he thinks. She's only willing to plead when she's _really_ needy.

"I don't know…" he says, and she groans again. He moves his hand away just a little and her hips strain upward, trying to chase down the contact. When he slides his fingers inside of her again she moans, and it's a mix of relief and frustration.

She's gasping and twisting against him, rolling her hips and looking for just a little bit more. He knows exactly what she needs but keeps denying her, drawing it out because he loves to see her like this, unraveled and begging. She loses complete control, and it's so different from the persona that everyone else gets to see. He's the only one who gets _this_ part of her, and he marvels at it. She's entrusting her body to him, her pleasure. He wants to make sure she never regrets it.

"You're driving me crazy," she whimpers. She turns her head to capture his lips in a desperate, sloppy kiss as she writhes in his lap. "Make me come, please I wanna come," she moans into his mouth, and there's a little hitch in her voice and no way he can resist it.

He's made her wait long enough. "Okay." He brings his free hand down to rub hard circles against her exactly how she likes it and curls the fingers of his other hand inside her, pressing insistently against the spot that drives her wild. No more teasing.

"Oh my God," she moans, throwing her head back against his shoulder. Every muscle in her body tenses up in anticipation and he keeps going.

She's riding his hand, her hips seeming to have a life all their own. Her breaths turn into pants, and then catch in her throat, and suddenly her entire body stiffens against him. He doesn't stop.

She cries out deliciously. Nadine nearly thrashes right out of his lap and onto the floor in the throes of her orgasm, but he's expecting it and braces an arm across her hips as he strokes her through it. And as she comes down from her high he continues to touch her lightly, resting his chin on her shoulder. Her skin is tacky with sweat, her body practically melting against his own. He gives her a second to catch her breath.

"You're such a fucking tease," she breathes. He swipes at her over-sensitive skin and she squeaks, hips jerking involuntarily.

Mike catches her chin and turns her face toward him to kiss her hard. She responds enthusiastically, slipping her tongue inside his mouth. When he pulls away, he points out, "I would only be a tease if I left you hanging. Maybe next time…"

"You wouldn't dare."

She's right - he enjoys making her come far too much to deny it to her - but he pretends to think about it some more.

Then suddenly he's groaning as Nadine grinds her hips in his lap with a devious smirk. "Turnabout's fair play, you know," she says matter-of-factly. She reaches between their bodies to stroke him through his boxers. "I can tease, too."

Oh, he knows. She'd tied him up once - literally, tied his hands to her own bedposts - and done nothing _but_ that for a very, very long evening. She'd first taken him into her mouth, sucking him off slowly, and then stopped just as he was about to blow. Then she laid back and touched herself right in front of him and he was unable to do anything about it but watch, horny and helpless, as she fell apart under her own hand. It was only then that she had climbed on top of him and rode him nice and slow. She'd denied him his own release until _he_ was the one begging - and had smiled the whole time.

He picks her up easily, turning her around and depositing her on top of the desk, and Nadine responds with a little 'oof!'.

"Not tonight," he says.

"If you say so." She leans back on her elbows slowly, grinning as she extends long, lean legs and wraps them around his hips. She pulls him in closer, and he willingly allows it. When he's close enough to reach, she tugs the waistband of his tented boxers, as if to remind him that he's still wearing them - as if he needs reminding.

He steps back to take them off swiftly, as she curls a hand behind her back to unclip her bra and toss it aside. She props her feet on the edge of the desk and opens her legs wide, putting herself on display for his viewing pleasure. She exudes a cheeky confidence that he _loves_ about her, and looks exquisitely, sinfully delicious spread out for him like this. He wants to feast on her until she comes on his face again and again, until she finally has to push him away.

But then she's reaching for him, hand closing around him languidly, and he'll have to wait to do all that because she's stroking him nice and slow, using the action of her entire arm, and he can't think anymore.

"Need you inside me," she murmurs, and he doesn't dispute it because he's here to please and god, he needs her too.

He is ridiculously, painfully hard now, and she's twirling her wrist and pumping him like she's trying to give him the handjob of his life, and not like she's simply getting him ready to fuck her. Because he's more than ready.

"That's enough," he growls, and forces himself to step back and out of her reach. She smirks and he grasps both of her smooth thighs and pushes them apart further. He moves back into the cradle of her legs until he's pressed against her, and slides himself back and forth across her slick center teasingly.

She moans, tilting her head back even as she's tilting her hips forward, trying to get him to slide into her.

He finally does, slowly - so that she can feel every inch of him. When he's fully sheathed and they're as close as they could possibly be, Nadine's eyes slide closed and she utters a breathy little whine that he's sure is designed to tease loose his fragile grip on control. He has to gather himself, and fast.

He pulls out almost all the way, and then slams back into her, hard.

She cries out, taken by surprise, and her hands fly up to seize on his forearms, needing something to hold onto. He does it again.

"F-fuck," she gasps.

She only curses during sex; it's a treat for him to hear those words on her lips, and it drives him _crazy_. He straightens up so that he can get more leverage, more power, and Nadine's hands slap down on the desk instead, fingers curling over the lip of it as she holds on for dear life.

"Feel good?" he says huskily. _She_ feels amazing. He slams into her again and she moans, loud. "I asked you a question," he says sharply, and punctuates it with another hard thrust.

"Ungh - yes! God, don't stop," she cries.

He's rough with her - he's never been this rough with her. She _likes_ it hard, but because she's so small and weighs next-to-nothing, Mike often finds himself holding back, afraid he'll hurt her. This despite her assurances to him that she won't break.

He isn't holding back today, though.

He thrusts into her again, his hips slamming into hers so hard that the entire desk shifts back an inch as Nadine cries out in pleasure.

"Fuck - what's gotten into you?" she gasps out.

And he doesn't exactly know, except to think fleetingly that she looked _really_ great in that dress tonight. And that now he intends to fuck her until she can't sit down.

From the sounds she's making, he thinks he's doing a damn good job of it, too.

"You just drive me crazy," he pants, and it's the truth. In his ridiculously lust-clouded mind, he thinks that Nadine was positively built for sex. She was made to be lifted up and carried and tossed around. Maybe he'll fuck her on the wall next time.

Her vocalizations have become a near-constant stream, and her hands grip the edge of the desk with white knuckles, holding on tight as he slams into her again. She has no leverage in this position, but it doesn't seem like she's complaining.

"Come on, give it to me," she orders breathlessly. Definitely not complaining.

He pins her hips down with both hands and bends his knees a little to change the angle. He thinks that if he can hit that spot inside her…

Suddenly Nadine's eyes roll back into her head. Her mouth opens and closes wordlessly. Her whole body tenses up the slightest bit, and he can feel the muscles under his hands begin to twitch and jump in response to his every thrust at this angle.

He grins. "Like that?"

She can't even answer him, and her breaths are coming in shallow little pants now, fast and trembling. But Mike thinks he can do her one better.

He slides one of his hands up her body as he continues to thrust, moves it over her flat stomach, her breasts, her neck. He briefly tightens his grip on the pale column of her throat ( _what a pretty picture_ , he thinks) before moving it up to her mouth. He slips his finger between her lips.

Nadine captures it lightly between her teeth and closes her lips around it and sucks, running her tongue over and around the digit and moaning and _Jesus Christ_ he thinks that maybe this was a bad move because he's going to blow his load right there.

He can't tease anymore; he's too fucking close and he'll be damned if he doesn't take her with him. He pulls his hand away from her mouth with a soft _pop_ and moves it back down between their bodies. He uses it to stroke wet circles over her clit, hard and fast. Her reaction is instantaneous.

" _Ohmygodtheretheregonnacomepleaseplease_ ," she squeals. She thrashes against the desk wildly and then tenses up hard. She goes completely still; stops breathing, stops moaning. And then she breaks and she's screaming - _screaming_ \- as her whole body begins to shake under him like a paint mixer. Her inner walls squeeze around him repeatedly and between the exquisite feel of it and the expression of pure bliss on her face and the way her body looks writhing under him and the way she sounds screaming his name - he's done for.

He pounds into her wildly a few more times before he moans her name on his own release. He's distantly aware that he's probably digging his fingers into her hips too hard, probably leaving bruises on her pale skin, and lets go.

He collapses half on top of her, his head between her breasts. He can hear her heart pounding under his ear. She lets her legs dangle off the edge of the desk.

"Holy shit," she says softly. "No one's made me come like that in…" she trails off, and a pleasurable little shiver runs through her.

He smiles against her skin. _That's_ what he likes to hear.

Her chest heaves under him as she gets her breath back. He thinks he must be crushing her but when he moves to get off, she wraps her arms around his back and holds him there. "No, stay right here," she murmurs. "This is nice."

Mike kisses the inside of her breast and lays his head back down, breathing hard. It _is_ nice.

Suddenly he thinks of something. "That French communications woman couldn't fuck you like that," he says slyly.

Nadine snorts. "That was your fantasy; not mine."

"Yeah, well…" He shifts, slipping out of her, and stands up carefully. He grabs a tissue from the box that had ended up on the floor - most of the items that were once on the desk has ended up on the floor - and uses it to wipe her tenderly between her legs. Her hips twitch. "I've changed my mind," he says, and leans over her. Against her mouth, he murmurs, "There's no way I'm gonna share you with anyone." He kisses her deeply and a low moan - whether hers or his, he can't tell - passes between their lips.

After a long moment he straightens up again and offers his hand to help her stand up.

She merely stares at it. "I can't move my legs," she informs him blandly. His smugness intensifies.

"Lightweight."

She doesn't answer. He slides his arms under her sated body and lifts her with ease. She practically melts against him as he carries her up the stairs to his bedroom and lays her down on her side of his bed. He crawls in next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and wedging a leg between hers. She sighs decadently, and turns her head to look at him.

"Just so you know," she says matter-of-factly, "I don't want to be shared, either."

Mike can't fight the grin that spreads across his face. He presses his lips to her bare shoulder, her clavicle, the edge of her jaw.

"Good."

And pulls her against him for a deep kiss.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading!_


End file.
